Drunk on Perpetual Life
by wordweb
Summary: It had been a hot July morning when he realized that he couldn't die anymore. And for some odd reason, it didn't really matter to him. Kenny/Christophe


Kenny/Christophe is un-cannonised but still totally there if you squint hard enough. A very short oneshot written in the midst of exams, 1am in the morning. Urgh.

Disclaimer: South Park, inclusive of all characters and other references to the show, is owned by Trey Parker and Matt Stone. If it were owned by individuals like me, I would have brought back the Mole by now.

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**Drunk on Perpetual Life**_: (One Shot)_

"I can't die anymore."

Christophe paused, the cigarette still lingering in his mouth, and shifted his gaze from the window back down towards Kenny, who was lying face up from under the sheets, one arm stretched out and reaching towards the ceiling. It was hot outside, hot with a fried egg of a sun stuck in the middle of the scorching sky, whilst there was that annoying ultraviolet radiation back down on the ground that Christophe hated so much. Fuck American summers.

"I cut myself last night, deep, with that switch blade you gave me for my birthday."

The blonde shifted the raised arm so that the brunette could see it with clarity. A deep, red gash laid just above Kenny's wrist, the skin already split on the edges and still partially stained in blood. The cut looked fresh.

"It hasn't healed yet. And it's weird, because wrist cuts normally gets better after an hour or two. But this time, it didn't."

He exhaled a smoky breath. "How many cuts has it been, already?"

"This is the third one that wouldn't heal since last Monday, that is, if you don't count the cut I got from accidentally walking on to those glass shards from that alley."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

It had been a week since Kenny had lost his semi-immortality. He hadn't noticed, of course, until Kenny had pointed it out. It'd been awhile since the blonde had actually 'died', probably due to how over-protective he was over his boyfriend, even if he didn't admit it out loud.

They were twenty, Christophe being a year older than Kenny, a sturdy enough age. Kenny was still training to be a full-time journalist, whilst he was still a freelance mercenary. He'd bring him to the places he'd need to get to for his assignments aboard his motorcycle, because it sure as hell helped to cut down on those air-ticket costs. They worked well together that way.

He was still hot, of course, and his lips felt dry and cracked, and he god damn needed some water – iced water preferably. Or even a coke from the vending machine down the street, anything just to escape the feeling of the sun cooking the skin off his face.

But he ignored that, and turned back to the blonde.

"Are you okay about it?"

"Sort of, I mean. It's alright. It might take some time to get use to, but it'll be cool." He glanced at the French mercenary. "I've got you to look out for my back, anyway."

"Glad to be of use," He paused, and stared pointedly back, a slight uneasiness beginning to well up in the pit of his stomach. "But seriously, are you okay? You realize zat you may no longer be immortal, after all."

"Yeah. But I mean, I've been sort of waiting for that to happen for awhile now." He watched as the blond heaved himself upwards, and leaned himself towards the side of Christophe. "I don't think it would have lasted anyway, the whole dying-and-coming-back-to-life routine. It was fun at first back in fourth grade, but it sort of got miserable later on. You know, not being able to die."

He watched as his Kenny gently folded his arms around him in a sort of self-hug.

"It's not cool to not be able to control when I die, and whether I die or not. It's like being frozen in time, you can't go forwards, but you can't go backwards either."

Christophe slowly lowered his cigarette into the ash tray on the nightstand, and promptly swung an arm lazily around the blonde's shoulders – noting that his skin was as sweat-ridden and sticky as his was.

"Well then, welcome to ze real world," He said smirking slightly, "where hit-and-run deaths are non-existent."

Kenny had snorted. "Gee, _thanks_. 'cause that makes me feel better about myself already."

The brunette merely smiled, and gently lent down to kiss the sweat off the other boy's forehead, before tipping the blonde's head slightly up so that he could murmur a few more words against his mouth.

"Don't worry about it, we'll catch our deaths together in ze end."

He said no more, and shut out the heat, letting the cigarette burn gently against the ash tray. And he felt the blonde close his eyes and cling to him, as if he were all that mattered.

It was refreshing, and it made him feel alive against the summer heat.

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Reviews would be awesome for this first post! Tell me if I've made any typos or mistakes (it is like, 5 minutes till 2am here).

Now I should consider hitting the sack.


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